I'm at the end of my wisdom, and here I will remain as its limits grow into the event horizon of love.

Quotation

He who learns must suffer, and, even in our sleep, pain that we cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God. - Aeschylus

Wednesday, December 23, 2015

I was at my home parish today, a beautiful old Italian church built originally by immigrants, praying with the help of my rosary beads before the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. As I was contemplating the Nativity, I realized that the whole infancy narrative is shot through with suffering, a stark contrast to the infancy narrative of the Buddha which is presented as perfect, sanitary, bloodless, and painless.

There are of course joyful moments, such as with the gifts of the magi or the honor given the Christ-child by the shepherds. No doubt a quiet smile filled the faces of Mary and Joseph on more than one occasion, as it does for many parents on the birth of a child. The mere existence of a child is indeed cause for great joy!

Nonetheless, they suffered hardships on the way to Bethlehem, and more hardships once they arrived. Giving birth is, of course, its own set of sufferings; the act of giving birth is a suffering-for, an embrace of suffering so that one we love might have life. This act of suffering-for is followed inevitably by countless other acts of suffering-for as Mary and Joseph provide the Christ-child with food and shelter; the labor of their bodies, though different, involved suffering for the sake of the life of the child.

Their suffering was the suffering of love, a suffering born of lowering the self to lift up the beloved. This action of the suffering of love Mary and Joseph performed over and over again, suffering in their own ways as Jesus grew and was lost to them in Jerusalem, as he left to begin his public ministry, as he was betrayed by his disciple Judas Iscariot, as he was interrogated by the Sanhedrin, as he was scourged by the Roman soldiers, as he carried the heavy crushing weight of the cross, as he was nailed to the cross, and as he died upon the cross.

As the end of Jesus' earthly ministry drew closer, their suffering of love became not just a suffering-for, but also a suffering-with: compassion. They suffered the heartache of knowing that their beloved son was hurting, that he was on the road to death, and that he had died. They shed the tears of love for Jesus just as Jesus had shed the tears of love for Lazarus. Mary, his dear mother, suffered with him, her heart breaking for him even unto the foot of the cross.

The suffering of love is interwoven of suffering-for and suffering-with; so too was the sacrifice on the cross both an act of suffering for us and with us, a glorious passion which offered divine redemption and profound compassion which exemplified divine love. Love suffered unto death; it was both the suffering of Love and the suffering of love. The suffering of love which Mary and Joseph had undergone had found its end in the suffering of their child who had come to suffer and die for them and for all.

The sacrifice on the cross was the climax of the suffering of Love, and the descent into Hell a triumph of Love; it was by the suffering of Love that Love triumphed over the grave so that we might have life eternal in the embrace of divine love. It is in embracing suffering that Christ loved to death the very sting of death, in His divine mercy granting us an invitation into the divine household as adopted children of God. We who would have life eternal must follow Christ, uniting ourselves with Him in practicing the suffering of love; we must take up our own cross of suffering and bear it with love as He bore our sins with love on His cross.

Just as Christ's entire life was an act of suffering-for and suffering-with His beloved flock, so too our entire lives must become an act of suffering-for and suffering-with His least brothers and sisters among His flock. This is the narrow way, the via dolorosa which we must travel to find our heavenly home. In embracing suffering, we unite ourselves ever more with Christ who suffered unto death on the cross that we might have life, and have it abundantly, thus accepting the gift of the triumph of Love.

Christ's life was God's song of love to all His children, a song in which Mary participated in a special way as she suffered to bring Love into the world, as she suffered to nurture Love as He encountered the world, as she suffered to support the mission of Love, and as she wept for the death of Love. The Suffering of Love is inseparable from Mary's suffering of love, from her acceptance of the suffering she would endure for her entire life for the sake of the Life of Love. She lived the life of love, showing us most profoundly how to joyfully accept Christ into our own lives, even at the cost of suffering.

The acts of giving birth and accepting death for the sake of others are inextricably bound up with one another by way of suffering embraced for the sake of life; this suffering so that another might have life is the suffering of love, the most worthy kind of suffering and the most worthy kind of love united in their power to separate us from all that is not of divine love and unite us with all that is of the divine Love.

By embracing the suffering of love, we accept the gift graciously offered to us by the Suffering of Love so that we might have life eternal in the divine household. By embracing the suffering of love, we understand that the Incarnation is the Suffering of Love just as the Crucifixion is the Suffering of Love, that they are an embrace of suffering by God which leads to life just as our own embrace of suffering with others and for the love of others leads to life eternal.

By embracing the suffering of love, we love to death the cause of our suffering: all those things to which we cling that are not notes in the song of divine love, that do not lift our voice to join the song of divine love, that do not carry our hearts to the Lord on the song of divine love.

Sunday, December 20, 2015

Particularly during December, additional attention is usually paid to the infancy narratives in the Gospels, as well as traditions, legends, and myths which have either preceded them or developed from them. Which, in light of my recent work on the Buddha's teachings, brought to mind the question of whether or not there was an equivalent of the infancy narratives in Buddhism, often called the Nativity in Christian circles.

Fortunately, I remembered reading part of the Pali canon which laid out some of the important facets of the Buddha's final rebirth.

"Thus have I heard. On one occasion the Blessed One was living at Savatthi in Jets's Grove, Anathapindika's Park. Now a number of monks were sitting in the assembly hall, where they had met together on returning from their almsround, after their meal, when this discussion arose among them: 'It is wonderful, friends, it is marvelous, how mighty and powerful is the Tathagata! For he is able to know about the Buddhas of the past--who attained final Nibbana, cut [the tangle] of proliferation, broke the cycle, ended the round, and surmounted all suffering--that for those Blessed Ones their birth was thus, their names were thus, their clans were thus, their moral discipline was thus, their qualities [of concentration] were thus, their wisdom was thus, their meditative dwellings were thus, their liberation was thus.'

When this was said, the Venerable Ananda told the monks: 'Friends, Tathagatas are wonderful and have wonderful qualities. Tathagatas are marvelous and have marvelous qualities.'

However, their discussion was interrupted; for the Blessed One rose from meditation when it was evening, went to the assembly hall, and sat down on a seat made ready."

It is at this point that the Buddha asks the Sangha what they were discussing prior to his return, and Ananda faithfully recounts the content of their discussion presented above. This makes a great deal of sense; in cultures without widespread literacy and quick methods of travel, people needed to be very good at remembering the exact content of discussions because there was no way to communicate across long distances, no way to travel the distances quickly to ask a person what they said, and probably no written record of the conversation.

These discussions were preserved via oral tradition by monks who memorized the discourses of the Buddha, which were only later recorded in written form in the Pali canon. And so it is no surprise that Ananda could perform the following recitation of the Buddha's words.

"The the Blessed One addressed the Venerable Ananda: 'That being so, Ananda, explain more fully the Tathagata's wonderful and marvelous qualities.'

'I heard and learned this, venerable sir, from the Blessed One's own lips: "Mindful and clearly comprehending, Ananda, the Bodhisatta appeared in the Tusita heaven." That mindful and clearly comprehending the Bodhisatta appeared in the Tusita heaven--this I remember as a wonderful and marvelous quality of the Blessed One.'

'I heard and learned this from the Blessed One's own lips: "Mindful and clearly comprehending the Bodhisatta remained in the Tusita heaven." This too I remember as a wonderful and marvelous quality of the Blessed One.'

'I heard and learned this from the Blessed One's own lips: "For the whole of his lifespan the Bodhisatta remained in the Tusita heaven." This too I remember as a wonderful and marvelous quality of the Blessed One.'

'I heard and learned this from the Blessed One's own lips: "Mindful and clearly comprehending the Bodhisatta passed away from the Tusita heaven and descended into his mother's womb." This too I remember as a wonderful and marvelous quality of the Blessed One.'"

Here, we learn that the Buddha remembers choosing to be reborn in the human world after remaining on a heavenly plane until the end of his life there, specifically the Tusita heaven. This is far from the only bold claim made by the Buddha with regard to his own abilities, and the ability to remember past lives clearly is central to the Buddha's teaching on what it means to be enlightened.

Unlike in Christianity, the Buddha is not the only-begotten Son of the Triune God. The Buddha is a consciousness, which like all consciousnesses, have the capacity to be enlightened. In the cosmos of suffering which the Buddha explains to us so that we can escape the cycle of death and rebirth, any of us can eventually ascend to the highest heavenly planes and become divine beings.

'I heard and learned this from the Blessed One's own lips: "When the Bodhisatta passed away from the Tusita heaven and descended into his mother's womb, an immeasurable great radiance surpassing the divine majesty of the devas appeared in the world with its devas, Mara, and Brahma, in this population with its ascetics and brahmins, with its devas and human beings. And even in those abysmal world intervals of vacancy, gloom, and utter darkness, where the moon and the sun, mighty and powerful as they are, cannot make their light prevail, there too an immeasurable great radiance surpassing the divine majesty of the devas appeared. And the beings reborn there perceived each other by that light: 'So indeed, there are also other beings reborn here.' And this ten-thousand-fold world system shook, quaked, and trembled, and again an immeasurable great radiance surpassing the divine majesty of the devas appeared in the world." This too I remember as a wonderful and marvelous quality of the Blessed One.'

The entrance of the Buddha into this world was marked by a great light present in all worlds; even the lower worlds are suddenly radiant on the occasion, quite a miraculous occurrence. Rather than the mere bright star marking the birthplace of Jesus, the Buddha's birth causes all worlds to be suffused with a light greater than the light of the gods, and it causes the entire cosmos of suffering to quake and tremble.

Having brought light to those in darkness, however briefly, and having shaken all the worlds, the Buddha has gained the attention of the mighty ones of the worlds. The gods themselves attend to the one who came to end suffering and pleasure, to show them the way to liberation from the cycle of death and rebirth to which even divine beings are ultimately subject.

'I heard and learned this from the Blessed One's own lips: "When the Bodhisatta descended into his mother's womb, four young devas came to guard him at the four quarters so that no humans or nonhumans or anyone at all could harm the Bodhisatta or his mother. ...
When the Bodhisatta descended into his mother's womb, she became intrinsically virtuous, refraining from killing living beings, from taking what is not given, from sexual misconduct, from false speech, and from wines, liquors, and intoxicants, the basis of negligence. ...
Other women give birth after carrying the child for nine or ten months, but not so the Bodhisatta's mother. The Bodhisatta's mother gave birth to him after carrying the child in the womb for exactly ten months. ...
Other women give birth seated or lying down, but not so the Bodhisatta's mother. The Bodhisatta's mother gave birth to him standing up. ...
When the Bodhisatta came forth from his mother's womb, first devas received him, then human beings." This too I remember as a wonderful and marvelous quality of the Blessed One.'

Greeted first by the gods, the Buddha's importance was shown in the attention of the mighty ones of the worlds; no mere wise men from the East or shepherds from the fields would be the first visitors for the birth of the great Lion who roars the Dhamma.

And the manner of his birth was of course special, and not just in the amount of time the pregnancy took or the position in which his mother gave birth, but also in the fact that she became all-virtuous simply by carrying him in her womb. After all, can an impure vessel be proper to bearing the most pure and virtuous Buddha into his final life?

This of course has some strong similarity to the view of Mary in ancient Christian thought; she is called Our All-holy, immaculate, most blessed and glorified Lady, the Theotokos and Ever-Virgin Mary. The similarities do not end there.

'I heard and learned this from the Blessed One's own lips: "When the Bodhisatta came forth from his mother's womb, he did not touch the earth. The four young devas received him and set him before his mother saying: 'Rejoice, O queen, a son of great power has been born to you.'" ...
"When the Bodhisatta came forth from his mother's womb, he came forth unsullied, unsmeared by water, humors, blood, or any kind of impurity, clean and unsullied. Suppose there were a gem placed on a fine cloth, then the gem would not smear the cloth or the cloth the gem. Why is that? Because of the purity of both. So too when the Bodhisatta came forth from his mother's womb, he came forth unsullied, unsmeared by water, humors, blood, or any kind of impurity, clean and unsullied." This too I remember as a wonderful and marvelous quality of the Blessed One.'

Mary, too, is called the Queen of Heaven and the Mother of God. But very unlike Mary the poor virgin, Queen Maya the mother of the Buddha is believed to have been a queen in the existing political order, married to a king named Suddhodana, with no indication that she was a virgin.

Though his parents were of high standing in the world, the Buddha later abandoned this status and wealth to live a monastic lifestyle, retreating into many years of ascetic discipline before teaching the Dhamma. Nonetheless, we see yet again that the purity of both the Buddha and his mother is emphasized in their freedom from the normal human bodily functions of birth. Despite the apparent purity of both Maya and her son the Buddha, they are given an impromptu free shower in which to bathe.

'I heard and learned this from the Blessed One's own lips: "When the Bodhisatta came forth from his mother's womb, two jets of water appeared to pour from the sky, one cool and one warm, for bathing the Bodhisatta and his mother." ...
"As soon as the Bodhisatta was born, he stood firmly with feet on the ground; then he took seven steps facing north, and with a white parasol held over him, he surveyed each quarter and uttered the words of the leader of the herd: 'I am the highest in the world; I am the best in the world; I am the foremost in the world. This is my last birth; now there is no renewed existence for me.'" This too I remember as a wonderful and marvelous quality of the Blessed One.'

Even more spectacularly, the Buddha could walk and speak immediately upon his birth, aware of his impending attainment of final Nibbana from the very beginning of his last life. This is quite an infancy narrative indeed, full of miraculous events and portents of miraculous events to come.

But the discourse is not yet finished; as usual, the Buddha wants to teach something more.

"That being so, Ananda, remember this too as a wonderful and marvelous quality of the Tathagata: Here, Ananda, for the Tathagata feelings are known as they arise, as they are present, as they disappear; perceptions are known as they arise, as they are present, as they disappear; thoughts are known as they arise, as they are present, as they disappear. Remember this too, Ananda, as a wonderful and marvelous quality of the Tathagata."

"Venerable sir, since for the Blessed One feelings are known as they arise, as they are present, as they disappear; perceptions are known as they arise, as they are present, as they disappear; thoughts are known as they arise, as they are present, as they disappear--this too I remember as a wonderful and marvelous quality of the Blessed One." That is what the Venerable Ananda said. The Teacher approved. The monks were satisfied and delighted in the Venerable Ananda's words.

As before, Ananda has no trouble remembering the words of the Buddha, keeping in his mind the discourses of the Buddha which would later be recorded from the oral tradition of the Sangha. This oral tradition is how we get the infancy narrative of the Buddha, an oral tradition which presents us with a miraculous birth, astonishing visitors, and what seem like impossible abilities from a newborn.

Thursday, December 17, 2015

In my previous post regarding the Buddha's teaching on perfect enlightenment, I examined a simile, first used by a follower of the Buddha, and then extended by the Buddha to probe the fuller depths of its meaning. In this simile, the Buddha was like the big bull elephant sought by the tracker; he was the hunted.

While it makes perfect sense that we would seek perfect enlightenment by following in the footsteps of the Buddha, this simile was not the only way in which we can understand the Buddha. The Buddha might be well-served by invoking the image of a bull elephant, an animal of long memory, an animal which is intelligent, compassionate, and strong. And yet the Buddha presented himself not infrequently as being like a very different kind of animal.

"Monks, in the evening the lion, the king of beasts, comes out from his lair. He stretches himself, surveys the four quarters all around, and roars his lion roar three times, after which he sets out in search of game.

When the lion, the king of beasts, roars its lion's roar, most of the animals that hear the sound are filled with fear, a sense of urgency, and terror. Those who live in holes enter their holes; those who live in the water enter the water; those who live in the woods enter the woods; and the birds fly up into the air. Even those royal bull elephants, bound by strong thongs in the villages, towns, and capital cities, burst and break their bonds asunder; frightened, they urinate and defecate and flee here and there. So powerful among the animals, monks, is the lion, the king of beasts, so majestic and mighty."

We see here that instead of an image of the Buddha as the gentle giant, the Buddha presents us with an image of a roaring lion. The Buddha is not only hunted; he is also the great hunter. The Buddha pursues us so that he might help us escape the cosmos of suffering.

But in our lack of understanding, we often flee from the Buddha; his message is often too hard, striking at the self to which we cling so fiercely, deeply afraid of the radical transformation he shows to us. And so we often return to our old pleasures, seeking comfort in them so that we do not constantly face the reminder of our own mortality.

"So too, monks, when the Tathagata arises in the world, an arahant, perfectly enlightened, accomplished in true knowledge and conduct, fortunate, knower of the world, unsurpassed leader of persons to be tamed, teacher of devas and humans, the Enlightened One, the Blessed One, he teaches the Dhamma thus: 'Such is form, such its origin, such its passing away; such is feeling, such its origin, such its passing away; such is perception, such its origin, such its passing away; such are volitional formations ... such is consciousness, such its origin, such its passing away.'

Then, monks, when those devas who are long-lived, beautiful, abounding in happiness, dwelling for a long time in lofty palaces, hear the Tathagata's teaching of the Dhamma, most are filled with fear, a sense of urgency, and terror, [saying]: 'It seems, though we thought ourselves permanent, that we are impermanent; it seems, though we thought ourselves stable, that we are unstable; it seems, though we thought ourselves eternal, that we are transient. It seems, sir, that we are impermanent, unstable, transient, included within identity.' So powerful, monks, is the Tathagata over this world together with its devas, so majestic and mighty."

Like the lion who enters the wide plain, the Buddha enters the wide world with a roar; his roar is the Dhamma which invariably shines a great light upon our own fear of death, jump-starting our sense of urgency. His roar is the antidote to the soporific pleasures we imbibe in a futile attempt to escape for as long as possible in this life the ever-present reality of our own death. If we but consider the immensity of time, it becomes clear that each moment of our life is a near-death experience; death is no farther away than the roaring lion or the trampling elephant who is frightened of it.

Even the devas, who live superhuman lives on the higher heavenly planes, are irrevocably made aware of this nearness of death, of their inevitable death and rebirth, of the suffering of the lower worlds to which they may return. The Buddha's roaring of the truth about suffering and existence wakes even the mighty divine beings from their slumbers in the fields of bliss.

"In the past, and also now, I declare that a monk who is also an arahant with taints destroyed--one who has lived the spiritual life, done his task, laid down the burden, attained his own goal, utterly destroyed the fetters of existence, and become liberated by final knowledge--is incapable of transgression in regard to nine things: he is incapable of destroying life, of taking what is not given, of engaging in the sexual act, of telling a deliberate lie, and of making use of stored-up enjoyments as he did in the past when he was a householder; further, he is incapable of taking a wrong course of action on account of desire, on account of hatred, on account of delusion, or on account of fear. In the past, and also now, I declare that a monk who is an arahant is incapable of transgression in regard to these nine things."

The sinking of this deep sense of impermanence into our minds so that we do not forget the lion's roar is the product of sustained discipline, the sort of discipline practiced by a monk, the discipline practiced for a lifetime by the Buddha himself, the monk par excellence. The Buddha emphasized again and again that moral discipline was a prerequisite for enlightenment, and that the best way to live the moral life was in the context of the monastic lifestyle.

We see above that even a monk who has lived the spiritual life to the end is not free to disregard moral discipline, that the monk's transcendence fulfills the moral obligations perfectly rather than abolishing them. The moral discipline is a critical part of the radical transformation into an arahant, and at the end we are so thoroughly transformed that we are no longer capable of acting in a way that is not in accord with the Dhamma.

"Monks, an arahant is called one whose crossbar has been lifted, whose trench has been filled in, whose pillar has been uprooted, one who has no bolt, a noble one whose banner is lowered, whose burden is lowered, who is unfettered.

And how is the arahant one whose crossbar has been lifted? Here the arahant has abandoned ignorance, has cut it off at the root, made it like a palm stump, done away with it, so that it is no longer subject to a future arising. That is how he is one whose crossbar has been lifted.

And how is the arahant one whose trench has been filled in? Here the arahant has abandoned the round of rebirths, the process of renewed existence, has cut it off at the root, made it like a palm stump, done away with it, so that it is no longer subject to a future arising. That is how he is one whose trench has been filled in.

And how is the arahant one whose pillar has been uprooted? Here the arahant has abandoned craving, has cut it off at the root, made it like a palm stump, done away with it, so that it is no longer subject to a future arising. That is how he is one whose pillar has been uprooted.

And how is the arahant one who has no bolt? Here the monk has abandoned the five lower fetters, has cut them off at the root, made them like a palm stump, done away with them, so that they are no longer subject to a future arising. That is how he is one who has no bolt.

And how is the arahant a noble one whose banner is lowered, whose burden is lowered, who is unfettered? Here the arahant has abandoned the conceit 'I am,' has cut it off at the root, made it like a palm stump, done away with it, so that it is no longer subject to a future arising. That is how he is one whose banner is lowered, whose burden is lowered, who is unfettered."

It is the monk who leverages this moral discipline who can then uproot the heavy pillar that is craving. No longer subject to his transient desires, he can turn all his strength gained through discipline toward ending his ignorance, all suffering in the cycle of death and rebirth, and breaking all the chains wrapped around his mind. The sweet siren song of the ego which sings, "I am the most important thing there will ever be, so give all your sweetest pleasures to me," is silenced.

He is now freed from the deepest fear of all who cling to the transient desires of the ego: losing the pleasures of life, experiencing the pain of life, and the endless futility of such a life.

"[The venerable Sariputta said:] When friend, a monk is thus liberated in mind, even if powerful forms cognizable by the eye come into range of his eye, they do not obsess his mind; his mind remains uncontaminated, steady, attained to imperturbability, and he contemplates their fall. Even if powerful sounds cognizable by the ear ... smells cognizable by the nose ... flavors cognizable by the tongue .. tactile objects cognizable by the body ... mental phenomena cognizable by the mind, they do not obsess his mind; his mind remains uncontaminated, steady, attained to imperturbability, and he contemplates their fall. Suppose, friend, there were a stone pillar sixteen meters long, eight meters sunk in the ground and eight meters above the ground. Then a powerful rainstorm would come from the east: the pillar would not budge, would not shake, would not tremble. Then a powerful rainstorm would come from the north ... from the west ... from the south: the pillar would not budge, would not shake, would not tremble. Why not? Because of the depth of the base and because the stone pillar has been deeply planted. So too for a monk thus liberated in mind, if powerful sense objects come into range, they do not obsess his mind; his mind remains uncontaminated, steady, attained to imperturbability, and he contemplates their fall."

The monk who uprooted the pillar of craving then becomes an unshakable pillar himself, unmoved by the sensory experiences and the seeking them out in the form of transient pleasures we often find so attractive. The monk follows the Buddha and becomes like the Buddha who is the everlasting monk, firm and unshakable, rooted so deeply in the Dhamma and the Sangha that his mind is free from the storms of this life on the ocean of sensory experience.

But the Buddha is not merely a roaring lion awakening us to our fears, or a monk who trains us to face our fears and let them go; he also a bringer of light. He explains that he is not merely enlightened, but also the bringer of light into the world.

"Monks, so long as the sun and moon have not arisen in the world, for just so long as there is no manifestation of great light and radiance, but then blinding darkness prevails, a dense mass of darkness; for just so long day and night are not discerned, the month and fortnight are not discerned, the seasons and year are not discerned. But, monks, when the sun and moon arise in the world, then there is the manifestation of great light and radiance; then there is no blinding darkness, no dense mass of darkness; then day and night are discerned, the month and fortnight are discerned, the seasons and year are discerned.

So too, monks, so long as a Tathagata has not arisen in the world, an Arahant, a Perfectly Enlightened One, for just so long there is no manifestation of great light and radiance, but then blinding darkness prevails, a dense mass of darkness; for just so long there is no explaining, teaching, proclaiming, establishing, disclosing, analyzing, or elucidating of the Four Noble Truths. But, monks, when a Tathagata arises in the world, an Arahant, a Perfectly Enlightened One, then there is the manifestation of great light and radiance; then no blinding darkness prevails, no dense mass of darkness; then there is the explaining, teaching, proclaiming, establishing, disclosing, analyzing, and elucidating of the Four Noble Truths."

The Buddha, then, is himself our illumination. He illuminates our fears and sufferings as well as the path to leave them behind so that we can empty ourselves of our sense of self. By killing the self, we vanquish suffering for all time, ending the process begun by the Tathagata, he who refers to the Tathagata because he has killed the sense of self which draws us back into the cycle of death and rebirth.

"The world, monks, has been fully awakened to by the Tathagata; the Tathagata is detached from the world. The origin of the world has been fully awakened to by the Tathagata; the Tathagata has abandoned the origin of the world. The cessation of the world has been fully awakened to by the Tathagata; the Tathagata has realized the cessation of the world. The way to the cessation of the world has been fully awakened to by the Tathagata; the Tathagata has developed the way to the cessation of the world.

In the world, monks, with its devas, with Mara, with Brahma, in this populations with its ascetics and brahmins, with its devas and humans, whatever there is that is seen, heard, sensed, cognized, reached, sought after, examined by the mind, all that has been awakened to by the Tathagata; therefore he is called the Tathagata.

From the night he fully awakened, monks, until the night he attains final Nibbana, in this interval, whatever he speaks, talks of, and expounds, all that is just so, not otherwise; therefore he is called the Tathagata.

As he speaks, monks, so he does; as he does, so he speaks. Since he does as he speaks and speaks as he does, therefore he is called the Tathagata.

In this world, monks, with its devas, with Mara, with Brahma, in this populations with its ascetics and brahmins, with its devas and humans, the Tathagata is the vanquisher, the unvanquished, the universal seer, the wielder of mastery; therefore he is called the Tathagata."

The Buddha is the Tathagata, he who conquered both self and world, the exemplar of moral discipline, the teacher of the Dhamma, and the eternal light which enlightens all who follow him. From the Buddha we learn that the killing of the self is thus a participation in the eschaton, the end of the world as we know it accomplished one ego-death at a time, a chain reaction begun by the Buddha once he awoke.

Thus the Buddha has been the lion who prompted us to start on the path with the roaring Dhamma, the monk who showed us how to walk every step of the path, and the great lighthouse which shines forth for the benefit of those who would reach the other shore.

By myself - Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=805982

Note: For those who are interested, you can find more information about the anthology I'm using on my Sources page.

Tuesday, December 15, 2015

The Buddha made some very bold claims. He claimed that he remembered all of his past lives unfolding through the ages (keep in mind that in the Indian cosmology which the Buddha took largely for granted, these ages were very long indeed), and that he knew how to end the cycle of death and rebirth. He claimed to be perfectly enlightened as well, among other things.

Despite his claim to have transcended the cosmos of infinite suffering, he did not simply reach the end of existence with serenity, taking his perfect enlightenment with him as if it were something one would have to earn and learn completely on one's own. He chose to dedicate his lifetime of enlightenment to helping others reach the other shore.

The Buddha understood that anyone could simply claim to be perfectly enlightened, and that people would need a chain of evidence and reasoning to accept such an incredible claim. At least according to the recorded oral tradition of his disciples left to us in the Pali canon, people found that chain of evidence and reasoning. We see one example of this below:

On one occasion that Blessed One was living at Savatthi in Jeta's grove, Anathapindika's Park. Now on that occasion the brahmin Janussoni was driving out of Savatthi in the middle of the day in an all-white chariot drawn by white mares. He saw the wanderer Pilotika coming in the distance and asked him: "Now where is Master Vacchayana coming from in the middle of the day?"

"Sir, I am coming from the presence of the ascetic Gotama."

"What does Master Vacchayana think of the ascetic Gotama's lucidity of wisdom? He is wise, is he not?"

"Sir, who am I to know the ascetic Gotama's lucidity of wisdom? One would surely have to be his equal to know the ascetic Gotama's lucidity of wisdom."

"Master Vacchayana praises the ascetic Gotama with high praise indeed."

"Sir, who am I to praise the ascetic Gotama? The ascetic Gotama is praised by the praised as best among devas and humans."

"What reasons does Master Vacchayana see that he has such firm confidence in the ascetic Gotama?"

So far we can see that Pilotika Vacchayana has been very impressed by the Buddha. He insists that he is not capable of judging the Buddha's wisdom because he is not equal to it, and humbly puts forth the idea that he is not even worthy to praise the Buddha, so much greater than he is the Buddha. Understandably, the brahmin wants to know why, out of the numerous ascetics, the Buddha should be viewed so especially favorably. So why is it that Pilotika believes the Buddha is perfectly enlightened?

"Sir, suppose a wise elephant hunter were to enter an elephant wood and were to see in the elephant wood a big elephant's footprint, long in extent and broad across. He would come to this conclusion: 'Indeed, this is a big bull elephant.' So too, when I saw four footprints of the ascetic Gotama, I came to the conclusion: 'The Blessed One is perfectly enlightened, the Dhamma is well expounded by the Blessed One, the Sangha is practicing the good way.' What are the four?

Sir, I have seen here certain learned nobles who were clever, knowledgeable about the doctrines of others, as sharp as hairsplitting marksmen; they wander about, as it were, demolishing the views of others with their sharp wits. When they hear: 'The ascetic Gotama will visit such and such a village or town,' they formulate a question thus: 'We will go to the ascetic Gotama and ask him this question. If he is asked like this, he will answer like this, and so we will refute his doctrine in this way; and if he is asked like that, he will answer like that, and so we will refute his doctrine in that way'

...They go to the ascetic Gotama, and the ascetic Gotama instructs, urges, rouses, and gladdens them with a talk on the Dhamma. After they have been instructed, urged, roused, and gladdened by the ascetic Gotama with a talk on the Dhamma, they do not so much as ask him the question, so how should they refute his doctrines? In actual fact, they become his disciples. When I saw this first footprint of the ascetic Gotama, I came to the conclusion: 'The Blessed One is perfectly enlightened, the Dhamma is well expounded by the Blessed One, the Sangha is practicing the good way.'"

He goes on to describe the same scenario with brahmins, householders, and other ascetics; these are the other three footprints from his simile. What we learn is that Pilotika is impressed by how those with status and knowledge in his society are turned away so quickly from trying to prove the Buddha wrong to following the Buddha, suddenly confident in his teachings. For Pilotika, the fact that those generally considered wise become the disciples of the Buddha is evidence that the Buddha is perfectly enlightened.

This is enough to pique the interest of the brahmin to whom he is speaking about the Buddha. So Janussoni visits the Buddha himself.

"Homage to the Blessed One, the Arahant, the Perfectly Enlightened One! Homage to the Blessed One, the Arahant, the Perfectly Enlightened One! Homage to the Blessed One, the Arahant, the Perfectly Enlightened One! Perhaps some time or other I might meet Master Gotama and have some conversation with him."

Then the brahmin Janussoni went to the Blessed One and exchanged greetings with him. When this courteous and amiable talk was finished, he sat down to one side and related his entire conversation with the wanderer Pilotika. Thereupon the Blessed One told him: "At this point, brahmin, the simile of the elephant's footprint has not yet been completed in detail. As to how it is completed in detail, listen and attend carefully to what I shall say." "Yes, sir," the brahmin replied.

The brahmin is convinced that the Buddha is indeed perfectly enlightened, which we know because the brahmin addresses him as such prior to conversing with the Buddha. At this point, the Buddha could have chosen to simply confirm that Pilotika's reasoning was correct, to confirm that the one to whom all the learned ones are turning for right teaching in the Dhamma is indeed perfectly enlightened.

But as usual, the Buddha does not take the easy route and confirm us in our false confidence in him. He helps us to understand that we need more than the crowd of learned people to help us discern who is perfectly enlightened.

"Brahmin, suppose an elephant hunter were to enter an elephant wood and were to see in the elephant wood a big elephant's footprint, long in extent and broad across. A wise elephant hunter would not yet come to the conclusion: 'Indeed, this is a big bull elephant.' Why is that? In an elephant wood there are small she-elephants that leave a big footprint, and this might be one of their footprints. He follows it and sees in the elephant wood a big elephant's footprint, long in extent and broad across, and some scrapings high up. A wise elephant hunter would not yet come to the conclusion: 'Indeed, this is a big bull elephant.' Why is that? In an elephant wood there are tall she-elephants that have prominent teeth and leave a big footprint, and this might be one of their footprints. He follows it further and sees in the elephant wood a big elephant's footprint, long in extent and broad across, and some scrapings high up, and marks made by tusks. A wise elephant hunter would not yet come to the conclusion: 'Indeed, this is a big bull elephant.' Why is that? In an elephant wood there are tall she-elephants that have tusks and leave a big footprint, and this might be one of their footprints." He follows it further and sees in the elephant wood a big elephant's footprint, long in extent and broad across, and some scrapings high up, and marks made by tusks, and broken-off branches. And he sees that bull elephant at the root of the tree or in the open, walking about, sitting, or lying down. He comes to the conclusion: 'This is that big bull elephant.'

"So too, brahmin, here a Tathagata appears in the world, an arahant, perfectly enlightened, perfect in true knowledge and conduct, fortunate, knower of the world, unsurpassed leader of persons to be tamed, teacher of devas and humans, the Enlightened One, the Blessed One. Having realized with his own direct knowledge this world with its devas, Mara and Brahma, this population with its ascetics and brahmins, with its devas and humans, he makes it known to others. He teaches a Dhamma that is good in the beginning, good in the middle, and good in the end, with the right meaning and expression; he reveals a holy life that is perfectly complete and purified."

For Pilotika, it was evidence enough to see that the Buddha was making disciples of his erstwhile opponents. For the Buddha, this is insufficient evidence. Though it would be convenient for the Buddha to gain followers to put forth a lower standard of evidence that is easier to meet, he proposes that it is much harder to know that he is perfectly enlightened, that we need various other kinds of evidence to know that someone is perfectly enlightened.

Setting aside his acknowledgements of the tempter demon Mara, the devas, and the creator Brahma which are common to his time, we can see here a summary of some of the Buddha's bold claims about himself. Some of the more interesting claims are that he has access to perfect knowledge and is perfect in his moral conduct, and also that he reveals to us how to live a life of perfect moral conduct. The Buddha explains what he means by living a holy life of perfect conduct and what he means by attaining perfect knowledge as he continues the discourse with Janussoni.

"A householder or householder's son or one born in some other clan hears that Dhamma. On hearing the Dhamma he acquires faith in the Tathagata. Possessing that faith, he considers thus: 'Household life is crowded and dusty; life gone forth is wide open. It is not easy, while living in a home, to lead the spiritual life utterly perfect and pure as a polished shell. Suppose I shave off my hair and beard, put on the ochre robe, and go forth from the household into a life of homelessness.' On a later occasion, abandoning a large or small fortune, abandoning a small or large circle of relatives, he shaves off his hair and beard, puts on the ochre robe, and goes forth from the household life into homelessness."

Like Pilotika, the Buddha begins by pointing out that a footprint of the Tathagata is that those who hear the Dhamma become his disciples. But the Buddha, rather than emphasizing how very learned these people are, emphasizes how much it impels them to change their lives. The discipleship that marks the presence of the Perfectly Enlightened One is a discipleship of abandoning the material support we rely on, of striking out into the wilderness which requires us to learn new ways of supporting ourselves, new ways of sustaining ourselves and finding peace without the constant presence of others.

For the Buddha, the Dhamma is not merely a correct set of ideas; it should radically change our lives. Though, as I've mentioned before, the Buddha does not believe that faith alone is a virtue, he does recognize that we generally begin with faith, and that it comes from hearing a powerful truth which leads us to have faith in the truth-speaker, and that this faith is often what motivates the beginner to start the journey to enlightenment.

"Having thus gone forth and possessing the monk's training and way of life, abandoning the destruction of life, he abstains from the destruction of life; with rod and weapon laid aside, conscientious, merciful, he dwells compassionate to all living beings. Abandoning the taking of what is not given, he abstains from taking what is not given; taking only what is given, expecting only what is given, by not stealing he dwells in purity. Abandoning sexual relations, he observes celibacy, living apart, refraining from the coarse practice of sexual intercourse."

Not only does the Buddha propose that his disciples who seek perfect enlightenment abandon their homes and families to dwell without a home, he also proposes that they abandon all sexual activity. The Buddha understood that craving was a constant barrier to enlightenment, and there is no greater set of cravings than food, sexual pleasure, and intimacy. In order to abandon the craving which leads to suffering, he prescribes the abandonment of activities which habituate us to craving, whether we crave the pleasure of delicious food, the pleasure of the orgasm, or the pleasure of intimacy with another human being.

The Buddha knows that enlightenment requires us to relinquish our reliance on our easy pleasures, and that includes power. He proscribes the reliance on power when he emphasizes the need to avoid stealing or the destruction of life, instead asking us to live a life of nonviolent loving-kindness to all beings.

"Abandoning false speech, he abstains from false speech; he speaks truth, adheres to truth, is trustworthy and reliable, one who is no deceiver of the world. Abandoning malicious speech...Abandoning harsh speech...Abandoning idle chatter, he abstains from idle chatter; he speaks at the right time, speaks what is fact, speaks on what is good, speaks on the Dhamma and the Discipline; at the right time he speaks such words as are worth recording, reasonable, moderate, and beneficial."

Part of this loving-kindness is of course a commitment to truth, and not the harsh truth of anger, but the truth spoken in love. The avoidance of malicious or harsh speech is a continuation of the nonviolence of this path the Buddha sets out for both those who would know the Perfectly Enlightened One and those who would follow in his footprints.

"He abstains from injuring seeds and plants. He eats only one meal a day, abstaining from eating at night and outside the proper time. He abstains from dancing, singing, music, and unsuitable shows. He abstains from wearing garlands, smartening himself with scent, and embellishing himself with unguents. He abstains from high and large couches. He abstains from accepting gold and silver. He abstains from accepting raw grain. He abstains from accepting raw meat. He abstains from accepting women and girls. He abstains from accepting men and women slaves. He abstains from accepting goats and sheep. He abstains from accepting fowl and pigs. He abstains from accepting elephants, cattle, horses, and mares. He abstains from accepting fields and land. He abstains from going on errands and running messages. He abstains from buying and selling. He abstains from false weights, false metals, and false measures. He abstains from accepting bribes, deceiving, defrauding, and trickery. He abstains from wounding, murdering, binding, brigandage, plunder, and violence."

While a feminist analysis of this text might rightly find something deeply problematic in the inclusion of accepting women and girls along with accepting food, precious metals, slaves, animals, and other kinds of property (just as it would in other discourses of the Buddha), I think we can nonetheless find valuable insight in the narrative used by the Buddha to explain the path to enlightenment.

The Buddha continues the theme of nonviolence, both against plants and animals. The Buddha also continues the theme of a rejection of reliance on material goods; while it is true that his disciple should not take what is not given, it is also true that his disciple should not take even many things that are given. Whether because they will habituate him to craving a transient pleasure, puff up his vanity, or busy himself with doing the bidding of others instead of seeking the Buddha by following his path, these things should be avoided by one seeking enlightenment because they turn us away from the path set for us by the Buddha.

"He becomes content with the robes to protect his body and with almsfood to maintain his stomach, and wherever he goes, he sets out taking only these with him. Just as a bird, wherever it goes, flies with its wings as its only burden, so too the monk becomes content with robes to protect his body and almsfood to maintain his stomach, and wherever he goes, he sets out taking only these with him. Possessing this aggregate of noble moral discipline, he experiences within himself the bliss of blamelessness.

On seeing a form with the eye, he does not grasp at its signs and features. Since, if he left the eye faculty unguarded, evil and unwholesome states of longing and dejection might invade him, he practices the way of restraint, he guards the eye faculty, he undertakes the restraint of the eye faculty. On hearing a sound with the ear... On smelling an odor with the nose... On tasting a flavor with the tongue... On feeling a tactile object with the body... On recognizing a mental phenomenon of the mind, he does not grasp at its signs and features. Since, if he left the mind faculty unguarded, evil and unwholesome states of longing and dejection might invade him, he practices the way of restraint, he guards the mind faculty, he undertakes the restraint of the mind faculty. Possessing this noble restraint of the sense faculties, he experiences within himself an unsullied bliss."

While we might have thought that the Buddha's path of self-denial could not get any more difficult and the life he exemplified more impoverished, he proposes that we go further and discipline thoroughly even our senses so that not even everyday sights, sounds, smells, tastes, touches, and thoughts are the objects to which we cling. Not even the perceptual mechanisms by which we navigate the world can be allowed to draw us away from the path to enlightenment and back into the life of clinging to transient pleasures and comforts.

Finally, after rigorous moral discipline and abandoning all that we previously relied upon for our contentment, we find that in leaving behind all those things to which we clung, emptying our hands has allowed us to accept the contentment of one who no longer clings to anything and accepts gratefully all that is needed. The Buddha has led us out of the land of contentment with a few things to which we clung into the land of contentment with all things, now freed of our need for clinging.

"He becomes one who acts with clear comprehension when going forward and returning; who acts with clear comprehension when looking ahead and looking away; who acts with clear comprehension when flexing and extending his limbs; who acts with clear comprehension when wearing his robes and carrying his outer robe and bowl; who acts with clear comprehension when eating, drinking, chewing, and tasting; who acts with clear comprehension when defecating and urinating; who acts with clear comprehension when walking, standing, sitting, falling asleep, waking up, talking, and keeping silent.

Possessing this aggregate of noble moral discipline, and this noble restraint of the faculties, and possessing this noble mindfulness and clear comprehension, he resorts to a secluded resting place: the forest, the root of a tree, a mountain, a ravine, a hillside cave, a charnel ground, a jungle thicket, an open space, a heap of straw."

At the end of the incredibly long and arduous path of moral discipline, the mind becomes clear and free at all times. The Buddha shows us that moral discipline is what leads us to a clear mind, but a clear mind is not the final goal; it is the beginning of the path. A clear mind is what will allow us to correctly follow the footprints of the Tathagata.

Until now, the disciple of the Buddha has not been able to track the Tathagata. But now that moral discipline has cleared away the thoughts that have for so long clouded our minds, filling them with distractions that obscure our mind's eye like an impenetrable fog, we can see well enough with the mind that the footprints will be readily visible to us. And so we retreat to a place where we can turn the mind's eye inward and turn the powers we have developed through moral discipline toward the long and difficult training of the mind itself.

"On returning from his almsround, after his meal he sits down, folding his legs crosswise, setting his body erect, and establishing mindfulness before him. Abandoning longing for the world, he dwells with a mind free from longing; he purifies his mind from longing. Abandoning ill will and hatred... Abandoning dullness and drowsiness... Abandoning restlessness and remorse... Abandoning doubt, he dwells having gone beyond doubt, unperplexed about wholesome states; he purifies his mind from doubt.

Having thus abandoned these five hindrances, defilements of the mind that weaken wisdom, secluded from sensual pleasures, secluded from unwholesome states, he enters and dwells in the first jhana, which is accompanied by thought and examination, with rapture and happiness born of seclusion. This, brahmin, is called a footprint of the Tathagata, something scraped by the Tathagata, something marked by the Tathagata, but a noble disciple does not yet come to the conclusion: 'The Blessed One is perfectly enlightened, the Dhamma is well expounded by the Blessed One, the Sangha is practicing the good way.'"

Finally we can see the first footprint after a lengthy process of moral discipline and purification of our minds. It is tempting to stop and believe that surely, after all this effort, we are at the end of the journey, that perfect enlightenment has been reached. But the Buddha draws us onward, urging us to venture beyond our newfound ability to see the footprint toward an encounter with the big bull elephant who leaves the footprints.

"Again, with the subsiding of thought and examination, he enters and dwells in the second jhana, which has internal confidence and unification of mind, is without thought and examination, and has rapture and happiness born of concentration. This too, brahmin, is called a footprint of the Tathagata, something scraped by the Tathagata, something marked by the Tathagata, but a noble disciple does not yet come to the conclusion: 'The Blessed One is perfectly enlightened, the Dhamma is well expounded by the Blessed One, the Sangha is practicing the good way.'

Again, with the fading away as well of rapture, he dwells equanimous and, mindful and clearly comprehending, he experiences happiness with the body; he enters and dwells in the third jhana of which the noble ones declare: 'He is equanimous, mindful, one who dwells happily.' This too, brahmin, is called a footprint of the Tathagata, something scraped by the Tathagata, something marked by the Tathagata, but a noble disciple does not yet come to the conclusion: 'The Blessed One is perfectly enlightened, the Dhamma is well expounded by the Blessed One, the Sangha is practicing the good way.'

Again, with the abandoning of pleasure and pain, and with the previous passing away of joy and dejection, he enters and dwells in the fourth jhana, which is neither painful nor pleasant and includes the purification of mindfulness by equanimity. This too, brahmin, is called a footprint of the Tathagata, something scraped by the Tathagata, something marked by the Tathagata, but a noble disciple does not yet come to the conclusion: 'The Blessed One is perfectly enlightened, the Dhamma is well expounded by the Blessed One, the Sangha is practicing the good way.'"

These next footprints teach us, if we follow them, that even the greater and more reliable happiness resulting from a life of moral discipline and training the mind, so much better than the transitory happiness of satisfying our cravings, is still not the end of our journey to perfect enlightenment. The end lies beyond even the greatest contentment we can reach by the path of discipline for the body and mind.

"When his mind is thus concentrated, purified, bright, unblemished, rid of defilement, malleable, wieldy, steady, and attained to imperturbability, he directs it to the knowledge of past lives. He recollects his manifold past lives, that is, one birth, two births, three births, four births, five births, ten births, twenty births, thirty births, forty births, fifty births, a hundred births, a thousand births, a hundred thousand births, many eons of world-contraction, many eons of world-expansion, many eons of world-contraction and expansion: 'There I was so named, of such a clan, with such an appearance, such was my nutriment, such my experience of pleasure and pain, such my life-term; and passing away from there, I was reborn elsewhere; and there too I was so named, of such a clan, with such an appearance, such was my nutriment, such my experience of pleasure and pain, such my life-term; and passing away from there, I was reborn here.' Thus with their aspects and particulars he recollects his manifold past lives. This too, brahmin, is called a footprint of the Tathagata, something scraped by the Tathagata, something marked by the Tathagata, but a noble disciple does not yet come to the conclusion: 'The Blessed One is perfectly enlightened, the Dhamma is well expounded by the Blessed One, the Sangha is practicing the good way.'"

This vivid description of what it is like to be able to recall all of ones past lives shows us that for the Buddha, enlightenment is the culmination of an incredibly long process, something which has no doubt not escaped anyone who has read this far into the Buddha's discourse on enlightenment. The image the Buddha paints for us is one of a stark choice between an endless round of deaths and rebirths, trapped in the cycles of pleasure and pain, or a cumulative process in which we can gradually shape the stream of our consciousness so that it leads us to the end of the path.

"When his mind is thus concentrated, purified, bright, unblemished, rid of defilement, malleable, wieldy, steady, and attained to imperturbability, he directs it to the knowledge of the passing away and rebirth of beings. With the divine eye, which is purified and surpasses the human, he sees beings passing away and being reborn, inferior and superior, fair and ugly, fortunate and unfortunate. He understands how beings pass on according to their actions thus: 'These beings who behaved wrongly by body, speech, and mind, who reviled the noble ones, held wrong view, and undertook actions based on wrong view, with the breakup of the body, after death, have been reborn in a state of misery, in a bad destination, in the lower world, in hell; but these beings who behaved well by body, speech, and mind, who did not revile the noble ones, who held right view, and undertook action based on right view, with the breakup of the body, after death, have been reborn in a good destination, in a heavenly world.' Thus with the divine eye, which is purified and surpasses the human, he sees beings passing away and being reborn, inferior and superior, fair and ugly, fortunate and unfortunate, and he understands how beings pass on according to their actions. This too, brahmin, is called a footprint of the Tathagata, something scraped by the Tathagata, something marked by the Tathagata, but a noble disciple does not yet come to the conclusion: 'The Blessed One is perfectly enlightened, the Dhamma is well expounded by the Blessed One, the Sangha is practicing the good way.'"

Now, as we near the end of the path, the Buddha reminds us of the waystations between our lives, the horrible tortures of the deepest naraka and the greatest bliss of the highest heavenly planes which are the inevitable consequences of our actions.

He also helps us to understand that enlightenment is not a purely self-centered path, that though it will lead to a deeper understanding of the illusion we call self, it also leads us to understand the suffering of others more deeply, to see with the divine eye how long they have languished in the cycle of death and rebirth marked by the waystations of the torture of the lower worlds and the bliss of the heavenly planes.

"When his mind is thus concentrated, purified, bright, unblemished, rid of defilement, malleable, wieldy, steady, and attained to imperturbability, he directs it to the knowledge of the destruction of the taints. He understands as it really is: 'This is suffering. This is the origin of suffering. This is the cessation of suffering. This is the way leading to the cessation of suffering.' He understands as it really is: 'These are the taints. This is the origin of the taints. This is the cessation of the taints. This is the way leading to the cessation of the taints.'

This too, brahmin, is called a footprint of the Tathagata, something scraped by the Tathagata, something marked by the Tathagata, but a noble disciple does not yet come to the conclusion: 'The Blessed One is perfectly enlightened, the Dhamma is well expounded by the Blessed One, the Sangha is practicing the good way.' Rather, he is in the process of coming to this conclusion."

The Buddha here explains to us the penultimate step: the direct realization of the escape from suffering, the true liberation which ends the endless cycle of death and rebirth in which so many are stuck.

"When he knows and sees thus, his mind liberated from the taint of sensual desire, from the taint of existence, and from the taint of ignorance. When it is liberated there comes the knowledge: 'It is liberated.' He understands: 'Birth is destroyed, the spiritual life has been lived, what had to be done has been done, there is no more coming back to any state of being.'

This too, brahmin, is called a footprint of the Tathagata, something scraped by the Tathagata, something marked by the Tathagata. It is at this point that a noble disciple has come to the conclusion: 'The Blessed One is perfectly enlightened, the Dhamma is well expounded by the Blessed One, the Sangha is practicing the good way.' And it is at this point, brahmin, that the simile of the elephant's footprint has been completed in detail."

At long last we see the big bull elephant to which the Buddha referred, the proof of no more lives which is the destination for those who seek enlightenment. The elephant is now clearly visible; we have no more need to follow the footprints through the long and arduous path marked out for us by the Buddha. We also find that the path is not so short or simple as we first thought.

In the simile used by Pilotika, he reasoned that we could infer from the four large footprints that there was a bull elephant, and in the same manner he reasoned that we could infer from the fact that these four types of wise people were following the Buddha that the Buddha was perfectly enlightened. In the simile used by the Buddha, the evidence was not sufficient until, after a long process of assessing the evidence, the elephant was actually seen.

For the Buddha, it is best to verify things by direct experience; he is a very strong empiricist, which is how we would describe his approach in the context of the Western philosophical tradition. Though he recognizes that we will probably start with faith, he draws us into a mode of realization which is more direct; the Buddha would have us move from raw belief to a belief which is firmly grounded in the experience of growing closer to illumination through discipline. For the Buddha, discipline is the bridge from faith to enlightenment.

While it is very helpful for the disciple of the Buddha to know the signs of perfect enlightenment, it is more important to know the first step to take, which is faith in the Buddha, and the path to get there, which is the path of hard discipline and radical self-denial. The Buddha's depiction of finding the Perfectly Enlightened One is in the end a depiction of the path we must take if we are to be one who is enlightened.

The Buddha does not leave us with a mere precise and clinical explanation of how to discern those who are enlightened; he walks us to the end of the path and invites us to see the elephant in the wood for ourselves.

Note: The image above is part of the cover art for the anthology I use as one of my Sources for explorations of Buddhism. I highly recommend that you buy it if you have an interest in studying an authentic presentation of Buddhism.

Monday, December 7, 2015

There has been a lot of discussion recently over who should be able to receive Holy Communion in the Roman Catholic Church, specifically for the divorced and remarried. About that more specific question, I have writtenfairly extensively as to whether or not it might be a good thing for families. But at this juncture, I want to take a step back and look at the general situation to see if it might help to elucidate the general principles by which we might examine the specific cases.

For all of us, relationships have boundaries. While our love may be unconditional, our relationships are always conditional to some extent, and that applies even in romantic relationships. For example, we might set a boundary in our relationships that we have been on at least 7 (plus or minus 2) dates before introducing them to our family. We might set a boundary in our relationships that we have been on a certain number of dates before we have sex. We might set a boundary on our relationships that we don't share certain details of abusive treatment until a certain level of trust is established, which may take years.

These boundaries can be driven by unhealthy or healthy reasons; when the reasons are unhealthy, the rules we set to demarcate those relationship boundaries come out of a love of rules, grounded in a disordered fear which grows out of trauma if left untreated. When the reasons are healthy, the rules we set to demarcate those relationship boundaries are the rules of love, a proper ordering of the relationship to its highest end and greatest fruitfulness.

Like many rules of love, which often frustrate the lover who wants to quickly overcome all distance between himself and his beloved, the rules regarding the reception of Holy Communion are often frustrating to those who want to eat at the table of divine love as a member of the divine household here on Earth. Those who love Christ want to receive His Body and Blood which He commanded us to eat and drink. And as any healthy person who is desired by a lover knows, it is important that the relationship and the physical signs of that relationship develop in order with one another, that we prevent the physical intimacy from overtaking the emotional intimacy or the intellectual intimacy.

This is of course because physical intimacy often becomes a substitute for the deeper forms of intimacy, becoming merely a useful way of satisfying our desire for intimacy without the risk of deeper intimacy made possible by the baring of the heart and mind in all their weakness and suffering to the beloved. And so we have the rules of love to keep our physical relationship in right order with the other dimensions of our relationship with Christ, so that we do not reduce our relationship with Christ to a mere cursory reception of His Body in the Eucharist, so that we make sure to also bare our hearts and minds in all their weaknesses to Him and to His Body, the Church.

Thus we accept the grace of Baptism when we are ready to accept His call to the repentance of love. We accept the grace of Confirmation when we are ready to be strengthened far beyond our own strength by His Passion on the Cross, to be healed by the wounds of love. We accept the grace of Holy Communion when we can discern the Body of Christ in the Eucharist and avoid eating and drinking of the Precious Body and Precious Blood unworthily. And who among us who loves deeply does not want to be worthy of our beloved, our beloved who can make us worthy if we but repent and accept His grace?

We should do this not just because Sacred Scripture warns us that our eternal soul is on the line, but also because we respect our Beloved so much that we would repent and strengthen ourselves by laying down our lives for Him in obedience as He did for us out of obedience to the Father, practicing the obedience of love which He gave us as an example when He offered His Body and Blood for our redemption. Christ's obedience to the Father preceded our redemption by His Holy Sacrifice on the Cross, and in the same way, our obedience to Him should precede our acceptance of the profound gift of His Body which is present in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.

The Church is the Body of Christ, and the Eucharistic feast is the Body of Christ. One cannot be in full relationship with the Body of Christ in the Eucharist without also being in full relationship with the Body of Christ as manifested in the Church. One cannot be fully obedient to Christ while being disobedient to His Church. And so too one should not receive Holy Communion which is truly the Body and Blood of Christ without being in full communion with His Holy Church in the spirit of obedience He has shown to us.

This full communion is the highest end and most fruitful relationship which is extended to us by the divine love of the Father, He who would welcome us into the divine household if we are but willing to accept that all parts of us which are not in full communion with His Body must be burned away in the fire and light of His glory, He who draws us ever closer to adoption into the divine household if we but show Him our love by obeying His commands, He who is eternally inviting us into the eternal home in which we can find our final rest whose hearts are restless until they rest in Him.

Saturday, November 28, 2015

One of the things that surprised me when I started reading significant portions of the Pali canon was that the Buddha's teachings were very grounded in the reality of the human experience. To a large extent, Buddhism had been presented to me as a religion with a laser-like focus on the mind, a religion that emphasized, in typical Western parlance, mind over matter.

As with many things about how Buddhism was presented to me initially, this turned out to be incorrect, or at the very least quite incomplete. It is certainly true that understanding the nature of the mind, transforming the mind, and liberating the mind feature heavily in the Buddha's teachings. But the emphasis of Westerners on the importance of mindfulness seemed disproportionate to its importance in the Buddha's teachings once I started reading his discourses in earnest.

The frequent repetition of his admonitions to basic moral fortitude did not fit the narrative I had been presented with about Buddhist teaching. What was even more unexpected is that the Buddha presented correcting our immoral behaviors as the first step on the path to the liberation of our minds, as we can see from the beginning of the following discourse which uses the analogy of the process of refining gold and purifying it to explain how we ought to refine our minds and purify them.

"There are, O monks, gross impurities in gold, such as earth and sand, gravel and grit. Now the goldsmith of his apprentice first pours the gold into a trough and washes, rinses, and cleans it thoroughly. When he has done this, there still remain moderate impurities in the gold, such as fine grit and coarse sand. Then the goldsmith or his apprentice washes, rinses, and cleans it again. When he has done this, there still remain minute impurities in the gold, such as fine sand and black dust. Now the goldsmith or his apprentice repeats the washing, and thereafter only the gold dust remains.

He now pours the gold into a melting pot, smelts it, and melts it together. But he does not yet take it out from the vessel, as the dross has not yet been entirely removed and the gold is not quite yet pliant, workable, and bright; it is still brittle and does not lend itself easily to molding. But a time comes when the goldsmith or his apprentice repeats the melting thoroughly, so that the flaws are entirely removed. The gold is now pliant, workable, and bright, and it lends itself easily to molding. Whatever ornament the goldsmith now wishes to make of it, be it a diadem, earrings, a necklace, or a golden chain, the gold can now be used for that purpose."

As usual, the Buddha has laid out a sequence for us to follow with regard to refinement and purification of materials that will apply to the purification of the mind. The Buddha is extremely adept at articulating the principle in mundane terms and showing us how this principle operates to lead us toward the liberation of mind.

Also as usual, the Buddha has employed an analogy which suggests that the purification process will be painful, that the cleansing of our mind by repeated washing and its purification in fire will be a painful process which is all a part of the cosmology of suffering, though it will lead to peace and freedom from suffering.

"It is similar, monks, with a monk devoted to training in the higher mind.: there are in him gross impurities, namely bad conduct of body, speech, and mind. Such conduct an earnest, capable monk abandons, dispels, eliminates, and abolishes. When he has abandoned these, there are still impurities of a moderate degree that cling to him, namely, sensual thoughts, thoughts of ill will, and thoughts of harming. Such thoughts an earnest, capable monk abandons, dispels, eliminates, and abolishes. When he has abandoned these, there are still some subtle impurities that cling to him, namely, thoughts about his relatives, his home country, and his reputation. Such thoughts an earnest, capable monk abandons, dispels, eliminates, and abolishes.

When he has abandoned these, there still remain thoughts about the teaching. That concentration is not yet peaceful and sublime; it has not attained to full tranquility, nor has it achieved mental unification; it is maintained by strenuous suppression of the defilements. But there comes a time when his mind becomes inwardly steadied, composed, unified, and concentrated. That concentration is then calm and refined; it has attained to full tranquility and achieved mental unification; it is not maintained by strenuous suppression of the defilements."

This all begs the question of why the Buddha would prescribe moral discipline first. Why would he prescribe the abstaining from sex and lustful thoughts, for example, before prescribing the mental disciplines of meditation? Why would he suggest that the moral disciplines support the mental disciplines? Why does he present a freedom from defilements (immoral behaviors) which does not require the suppression of our transient desires as a result of a process of moral discipline?

I would like to suggest some possible answers to this question from my own direct experience. One of the things I've learned from my practice of moral discipline, whether it was fasting from certain foods, abstaining from sex, or sacrificial charitable giving, is that the greatest benefit of moral discipline is that it ends the dominance of the ego over our lives. And the benefit of ending the dominance of the ego over our lives is that it begets amazing improvements in one's clarity of mind.

When the mind is no longer busy constructing complex rationalizations for what the brainstem has been urging it to do out of basic instinct, the striving for immediate gratification is alleviated and right concentration is made possible by the new stillness of mind, a mind which is no longer constantly disturbed by its cravings for actualizing transient desires. At that point the mind can be trained.

The Buddha explained how our transient desires hinder the higher mental training necessary for liberation to a brahmin on one occasion with another analogy. The brahmin asks a question we can all relate to, the question of why we remember some things out of the blue without any effort at times and at other times struggle to recall something we have taken great pains to learn.

"Then the brahmin Sangarava approached the Blessed One, exchanged greetings with him, sat down to one side, and said: 'Master Gotama, why is it that sometimes even those texts that have been recited over a long period do not recur to the mind, let alone those that have not been recited? And why is it that sometimes those texts that have not been recited over a long period of time recur to the mind, let alone those that have not been recited?'

Brahmin, when one dwells with a mind obsessed by sensual lust, overwhelmed by sensual lust, and one does not understand as it really is the escape from arisen sensual lust, on that occasion one neither knows nor sees one's own good, or the good of others, or the good of both. Then even those texts that have been recited over a long period do not recur to the mind, let alone those that have not been recited.

Suppose, brahmin, there is a bowl of water mixed with red, yellow, blue, or crimson dye. If a man with good sight were to examine his own facial reflection in it, he would neither know nor see it as it really is. So too, brahmin, when one dwells with a mind obsessed by sensual lust, overwhelmed by sensual lust, and one does not understand as it really is the escape from arisen sensual lust, on that occasion one neither knows nor sees one's own good, or the good of others, or the good of both. Then even those texts that have been recited over a long period do not recur to the mind, let alone those that have not been recited."

The point is clear, though the water is not; our transient sensual desires are one thing that keeps our minds from the right concentration that would allow us to have healthy mental function. The Buddha goes on to name other things which cloud the the mind's vision with transient desires when we allow ourselves to focus on them: ill will, dullness and drowsiness, restlessness and remorse, and doubt. These are the colorful and distracting dyes which obscure the clear water of the unfettered mind.

It is these things that must be removed from our minds by means of the cleansing fire of moral discipline so that the mind can be free to develop the serenity and insight required for mastering the mind on the way to liberation. For the Buddha, it is not the case that we can merely achieve the moral apex of boundless compassion that comes with enlightenment without first practicing moral disciplines, because without moral discipline, our minds are not sufficiently free to discern what is truly good.

This is why the Buddhist tradition prescribes doing meritorious deeds and praying for the good of all beings, a corrective for our tendency to have ill will towards other beings. And why the Buddha repeatedly prescribes abstaining from the use of intoxicants so that we are free of states of dullness or drowsiness and have clarity of mind. It's why we are instructed to relinquish our clinging to the wrongs that have been done to us or the wrongs that we have done. And it's why we are instructed by the Buddha to go to him and to the Dharma for refuge so that we can cease our obsession with our doubts. These are all correctives for the impurity of our minds.

And, to bring it back around, it's also why he gave us frequent admonitions against sexual misconduct which ever re-invigorates our sensual lusts. These moral disciplines of abstaining from sex, believing in the Buddha and the Dharma, avoiding intoxicants (what we would think of as alcohol, marijuana, opiates, or prescription pain medication, which are widely abused), forgiving ourselves and others, performing meritorious deads, and offering them for the good of all beings are what cleans the water of the mind so that it is bright and clear, enabling us to see what is good and true.

"Suppose, brahmin, there is a bowl of water that is not mixed with dyes...If a man with good sight were to examine his own facial reflection in it, he would know and see it as it really is. So too, brahmin, when one dwells with a mind that is not obsessed by sensual lust, ill will, dullness and drowsiness, restlessness and remorse, and doubt on that occasion even those texts that have not been recited over a long period recur to the mind, let alone those that have been recited."

But the benefits of moral discipline's dispelling the clouds which obscure the mind's eye are only the beginning. The Buddha explains that once we have access to the higher training of the mind that moral discipline has opened up for us, the spiritual benefits grow even greater as we grow in the mental disciplines he prescribes for us. To return to the discourse on the purification of the mind:

"Then, to whatever mental state realizable by direct knowledge he directs his mind, he achieves the capacity of realizing that state by direct knowledge, whenever the necessary conditions obtain.

If he wishes: 'May I wield the various kinds of spiritual power: having been one, may I become many; having been many, may I become one; may I appear and vanish; go unhindered through a wall, through a rampart, through a mountain as if through space; dive in and out of earth as if it were water; walk on water without sinking as if it were earth; travel through the sky like a bird while seated cross-legged; touch and stroke with my hand the moon and sun, so powerful and mighty; exercise mastery with my body as far as the brahma world'--he achieves the capacity of realizing that state by direct knowledge, whenever the necessary conditions obtain.

If he wishes: 'With the divine ear element, which is purified and surpasses the human, may I hear both kinds of sounds, the divine and human, those that are far as well as near'--he achieves the capacity of realizing that state by direct knowledge, whenever the necessary conditions obtain. ..."

For the Buddha, the mind can conquer matter indeed, but the the mind only conquers the limitations of the matter of our bodies after the body has been disciplined in the cleansing waters of right action. In the end, the Buddha teaches us that the cleansing of the matter of our lives is what allows the mind to triumph over it and discover its liberation.

Friday, November 27, 2015

I am wounded by my love. I am wounded by my love each day, and not only in those moments of profound heartbreak from which flow the tears of love. These wounds cover my body with the many small scars which result from the risks of bodily injury I take to accomplish what is necessary to provide for the needs of those I love. These wounds pepper my heart with the holes left behind from the loss of the love of those I love as they have passed out of my life, sometimes passing into the next.

This is true of all of us who have loved and lost, for all mothers who have suffered the wounds of miscarriage and childbirth, for all fathers who have stood with wounded hearts at the graves of their sons killed in battle, for all children who have cried at the death of those who sacrificed so much to raise them, for every spouse who has grieved for a divorce or a death of their spouse. It is true in each moment for all the young ones who fall in love with someone who cannot be theirs, for all the siblings who yearn for a deeper relationship with their brothers and sisters, for all those who are alone and friendless.

It is also true for those who are still wounded by our lack of love for those who are made in His image, and for those turned away by the lack of love of its members from the Church who is the Bride of Christ, She who would be Mother to all who are wounded. The Church is the Mother who brings all the willing to the divine Physician, Christ who alone can heal the deepest wounds of the heart which yearns for the divine love, for every human heart which was made to rest in Him. It is Christ who lived and died the life of the cross who showed us the path to healing, the via dolorosa.

Christ showed us that our glory lies not in assiduously avoiding all wounds, but rather in accepting our wounding for the sake of the love, in embracing our wounds as a sign of love we bear for all those made in the imago dei, and in looking upon the wounds of others as a symbol of their familial relationship with Christ who showed us how to live fully with great wounds. Christ reached out with love to those who were wounded, understanding that those who are wounded for love are His least brothers and sisters to whom we should minister in love, that it is all the wounded for whom He came to be wounded on the Cross.

Christ who is Love showed us that to participate in divine love is to be wounded by those we love, that Love reconciles us to Himself in offering healing to us by His wounds. We are made whole in love by the wounds of Love whose body and heart were broken for us, the Son who died that we might have life eternal with Him in Paradise. It is through the wounds of Love that we are adopted into the divine household, washed clean in the precious Blood which flowed from the precious Body of the Son whose existence sprung from the eternal font of the Father's infinite love.

It was Christ who showed us that to be fully human is to be wounded and healed, and that it is precisely our wounds that demonstrate that we are healed, and what's more, that we are gloriously alive! It is in our being wounded for the sake of love that we have life most abundantly as living icons of the Body of Christ, in laying down our lives for the good of our beloved that we shine all the more brightly as an image of God, reflecting the light of His love into the world.

It is by the wounds of love taken as we travel on the via dolorosa that we gradually love to death those parts of us which are not compatible with existence in Him who is Love. It is by the wounds of love that we die to sin, all sin which is missing the mark of love's target, and grow to live in the light of Love by which we see clearly the heavenly household which is His target for us to reach by cooperating with His grace.

It is by the wounds of love that we are cleansed so that we can enter under His roof, our wounds healed by the wounds of Love, our hearts finding their final rest in Him for whose love we were made.